


The Wedding

by Gbheart, PracticallyIJ



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Angst, Fluff, It's not their wedding though, M/M, Slow Dancing, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gbheart/pseuds/Gbheart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PracticallyIJ/pseuds/PracticallyIJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sal, Q, Murr and Joe are at a mutual friend's wedding. Sal and Q are desperately blind to each other's feelings. And of course, whenever Joe and Murr are involved, matchmaking shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is from Q's point of view, and was written by my best friend Gbheart. The second chapter is the same events from Sal's perspective, written by me. We thought it might be interesting to see what's running through the other guy's head! Most of the credit goes to her, as it was her idea.  
> Rated M for language.

Weddings. The happiest day of the bride and groom’s lives, a reminder of how wonderful love is for the guests with their partner by their side, and an uncomfortable reminder of solitude for those not in a relationship. Brian “Q” Quinn didn’t actually mind weddings overall. There was often a lot more people crying than he was necessarily comfortable with, but they weren’t that bad, and yeah, it was kind of nice to see his friends and relatives happy. But what he did mind was that people often treated him like he was a fucking fragile piece of glass during the days surrounding the main event. They all thought that they were being subtle, just the occasional pat on the back and “you okay, bud”, but the attention was stifling. It had been 12 years, _12_ , since his ex had left him for someone else, and yeah, okay, they’d been 6 months away from getting married themselves, but Q wasn’t bitter about it anymore. He’d accepted it a long time ago, and nowadays was grateful for it. They were young and not really suited for one another. If it hadn’t been 6 months before the wedding, it would have likely been 6 days. Deep down, even then, he’d known that she wasn’t the right person for him, but they’d been together a long time and he was desperately afraid of being alone. Solitude made it harder to ignore the dark thoughts, and made suicide seem an all the more feasible option. So he’d stayed and clung onto some vain hope that they would work, but then it had fallen apart and so had he. It had taken a long time, and many close calls and crying and anger, but he was now completely over it. The coddling from his friends was completely unnecessary.

Okay. So, maybe not completely unnecessary. He knew that they were just being careful. They’d all seen how much her leaving had fucked him over, and they obviously didn’t want to see him go through it again, but he was _fine_. The first wedding he’d been to afterwards had been admittedly hard, but Q had been to dozens since then and he’d been okay – great even. So the others really didn’t need to worry.

This particular wedding was one of his close friends, Andy, marrying their long-term girlfriend.  The ceremony was great, although he kept being distracted by the woman in front of him that was sobbing loudly. Even Sal, who was sitting next to him for it, looked tearful. Q would have laughed if he wasn’t used to it – his best friend was a romantic at heart and always got emotional at these kinds of events.

If Q was being honest with himself, he’d say that he was completely surprised that Sal wasn’t married yet. He was a great guy, funny and one of the smartest people that he knew. Sal was also really good looking, not that Q would ever admit to that one, and so it made no sense that his best friend was single and had been for a while. And even though it would hurt, as it always did when Sal was with someone, and Q had to watch him look at that person as though they were his whole world, it would be worth it. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Sal. Q wasn’t selfish enough to hope that Sal would never be with anyone else just because he’d been stupid and cliché enough to fall for his best friend. Although it wasn’t even seeing Sal being in a relationship that was the hardest part of the whole thing; it was the fallout of the breakup. These girls would break Sal’s heart and crush his spirit because Sal would always give everything he had in these relationships and then be left with nothing. Then Q would have to listen to his best friend talk about what a piece of shit he was, how he would die alone, and all Q wanted to do grab him and say “you are so fucking loved and I would bring you the world if you asked me to”, but instead he remained quiet and allowed Sal to think that no one would love him.

Q pushed away the depressing train of thought and concentrated on the wedding. Everyone cheered as the happy couple kissed for the first time as husband and wife. Q turned to look at Sal and found him already looking Q’s way, and they both broke into a wide smile.

“Feelin’ emotional there, bud?” Q teased.

“Go fuck yourself,” Sal said, laughing.

“Oh, I plan to later.”

“You’re a disgusting asshole.” Sal shoved his arm. “Come on, everyone’s leaving.”

They stood up and joined everyone else leaving the room.

******

The photographs were being taken, and Q had been dragged into what felt like hundreds. Even though he’d had his photo taken numerous times because of Impractical Jokers and meeting fans, he still felt awkward being in them. He knew that Sal did too, but he was a lot better at hiding it, and neither Joe nor Murr seemed to mind at all.

“The bride will now throw the bouquet,” someone announced. They all stepped back as a group of women stepped forward and stood behind the bride.

Q felt something brush past him as Joe and Murr dragged Sal forward. It was obvious that Sal wanted to scream at them to stop, but his fear of making a scene stopped him. Q looked on with half amusement and half confusion. It was only when they held Sal near the group of single ladies that he realised what they were doing. “Are you all ready?” The bride asked. The women all screamed in excitement. Sal was hissing something at Joe and Murr, but Q couldn’t quite hear what.

The bouquet flew into the air and the dozen women scrambled to grab it. Joe and Murr let go of Sal as he instinctively held his hands up to grab the flowers. Sal must have realised what he’d done because his eyes widened as he stared at the bouquet in his hands. A couple of the women looked disappointed, but the rest of the people cheered, Joe whooping loudly. “I knew you’d be the next bride, Sally boy!” Joe cheered.

Q’s heart fluttered at how much Sal was blushing. His beautiful face always flushed so completely, and Q was almost disappointed that it wasn’t him that had made Sal look like that. Once the cheering stopped, he made his way through the small crowd to join his friends.

“Why the fuck would you do that, guys?” Sal asked irritably.

“Come on, pal, we all know you wanna be a blushing bride – you’ve certainly got the blushing part down,” Joe answered.

“Who am I supposed to be marrying, exactly?” Sal pointed at the bouquet accusingly.

“Why, Q, of course!” Murr exclaimed, beaming. Q had chosen the wrong time to join the conversation, and he tried to stop himself from blushing as well. Like Sal would ever want to marry him.

“So I’m Q’s bride, huh?” Sal asked. “Why the hell am I the _bride_?”

Murr laughed out loud. “I love that that’s what you’re offended by.”

Sal spluttered out incoherent words. Q needed to take control of this conversation, otherwise he’d end up saying something he regretted. “Sal, buddy, I know I’m a catch and all, but you’re gonna need to put out a little more if you want me to marry you,” Q said.

“Why am I friends with you all again?” Sal retorted, although he was smiling. “Come on, _fiancé_ , let’s go and get something to drink.”

They all laughed as they walked back inside.

******

The reception party was in full swing. People were dancing, singing - badly - and getting progressively more and more drunk. Q was only doing the last one on the list. Sal had successfully persuaded Joe and Murr to get up and dance, but even his stubborn best friend had learned a long time ago that it would take considerably more than that to get Q up on the dance floor. Instead, with drink in hand, he watched the people dancing, or more specifically, Sal. Even after years of friendship, and years of watching him dance, Q never got bored of it. He moved with such fluidity, grace and sensuality that it always left Q with a dry mouth. He was certain that the first time he’d ever got a boner over Sal was because he’d seen him dance; it had led to a very guilt-ridden masturbation session and months of paranoia. Now those feelings of lust were a part of his everyday routine – they felt as normal as breathing to him.

Sal had obviously noticed him looking, because he walked over. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt was undone, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Q licked his lips.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Sal asked as he sat down next to him.

“Yeah, just enjoying my drink,” Q replied as calmly as possible. These feelings of lust towards his best friend may be normal to him by now, but, _fuck_ , they were certainly strong at the minute. Q wondered what Sal would do if he leaned over and kissed him. Would he be horrified? Would he run away? Would he maybe, just maybe, kiss back? There was an almost irresistible temptation there to just screw the consequences and finally find out what those lips really felt like. He put his glass down – clearly he’d had enough alcohol for tonight if kissing Sal seemed like a reasonable course of action.

“Have you drunk enough to consider dancing with me?” Sal enquired.

“Maybe. What would you give me if I agreed to do it?” He spoke without thinking. _Shut the fuck up, you idiot._

Sal looked at him with confusion, before laughing awkwardly.

“Well, I have $5 in my pocket if that tempts you at all?”

“Are you implying that I’m easily bought?” Q went for deadpan, but it ended up sounding stilted.

“$10 is my final offer, buddy.” Mercifully, it seemed as though Sal didn’t notice Q being a total asshole.

Almost every part of him was screaming not to do this. He couldn’t dance for shit and being around Sal was dangerous right now, but there was a small part of him that wanted to. It would give him an excuse to touch Sal in a different way than a pat on the back or a one-armed hug, and the idea of passing that up was almost unbearable.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll dance with you.”

“Really? You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Would I do that to you?” Q teased.

“Yeah, you would.”

Q laughed as he stood up, and he held his hand out. “May I have this dance, Mr Vulcano?”

“Why, I thought you’d never ask, Mr Quinn,” Sal replied in what was a terrible attempt at a Southern accent, taking hold of Q’s hand. It lasted only a moment, but Q could feel the gentle heat on his own hand all the way to the dance floor.

Watching everyone else move with at least some form of rhythm reminded Q that he truly was the worst dancer in the world. If he hadn’t already practically promised Sal that he’d do this, he’d be straight back in his chair.

“Just feel the music,” Sal whispered in his ear, close enough that his breath tickled. “Don’t think, just do.”

_I’d be doing a lot more than just talking to you if I went with my instinct._

“Don’t laugh if I make a total dick of myself,” Q complained.

Sal laughed. “I’ve finally got you here – you think I’m gonna do anything to make you run away?”

Q wasn’t sure if it was because he was drunk or horny, but that sentence sounded oddly charged. Like there was an undercurrent of something else there. Yeah, it was probably ‘cause of the alcohol.

“Just follow my lead,” Sal continued. “You’ll be fine, buddy.”

Q watched as Sal started to dance, slower than his normal pace, but it still seemed impossibly complicated. Sal looked back at him with that special smile he seemed to save just for Q. Like everything his best friend did, he smiled with everything he had. His eyes crinkled at the corners, reminding Q absurdly of the love letter that he’d once written for the man years ago that had ended up screwed up in a ball, in the trashcan closest to Sal’s apartment.  

Q vaguely started moving in a way that he hoped looked at least somewhat all right. Sal seemed to appreciate it, judging by his smile growing ever wider, which spurred Q on. Then the music seemed to fade away, and the DJ started speaking:

“Now here’s one for all the lovers out there,” he practically cooed.

_Oh. Oh shit. No._

The unmistakable melody of All of Me by John Legend flooded the speakers. Q immediately took a step back; he didn’t even think about it.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sal chided. “I’ve finally got you here – I don’t give a fuck what song it is. You’re staying.”

“I...this song’s for couples,” Q replied lamely.

“Very observant of you, Sherlock.”

**_‘What would I do without your smart mouth?_ ** _’_

Goddamn this song. The people around them moved closer together, wrapping their arms around the person that they loved the most in the world. So why was Q running away from his love?

Q opened his mouth before closing it again. What could he say that wouldn’t make it completely obvious that Q was pining for Sal with every fibre of his being? That every heartbeat that pounded in his chest was for him?

Sal’s smile faded. “Listen, you...you don’t gotta do this, you know? I was kidding, well, sorta. Just...just ignore me, all right? Let’s go sit down.”

Q knew immediately that he’d made a mistake. He had to do this. It didn’t matter, okay? It didn’t fucking matter that it wouldn’t mean to Sal what he wanted it to – what was important was that it meant _something_ to him, and this obviously did.

Hoping that he wouldn’t live to regret this, Q held out his hand. “What are you...?” Sal trailed off.

“Are we gonna do this or what? The song’ll be over soon.”

The grin returned to Sal’s face. “Whatever you say, bud. Do you want me to lead?”

“This is the one and only time I’ll let you lead, and it’s only ‘cause I’m too nice.”

Sal chuckled as he said, “sure.”

Gently, almost timidly, Sal placed one hand in the middle of Q’s back and the other cupped his hand. From watching movies, Q remembered that he had to put his remaining hand on Sal’s shoulder. He was definitely grateful that Sal was leading, as they swayed together in time with the music.

For a slow dance, there was still a fair distance between them. Both too much, and not enough, space. Q knew that he should really look at the wall or something, but there was no way that he couldn’t not stare at this beautiful man before him. He’d changed so much in a lot of ways, but in even more ways he was still the same Sal that he’d known for over half his life. When they’d first met back at high school, Q had been struck by a feeling that this guy was going to be important in his life, that maybe they were going to go on to be great friends. That feeling had gently simmered for a long while, until it either faded away or he no longer even noticed it. And now, as the boy from back then was now a grown man in his arms, Q realised with sudden clarity just how wrong he had been back then. The feeling wasn’t because he somehow knew that they were going to be good friends, although that certainly did happen, but rather because Q had met his soulmate. It made perfect sense. He could happily wake up every morning to Sal’s face, for the rest of his life, and would never get bored. Sal completed him in ways that Q hadn't even realised were broken to begin with. The thought should have frightened him, because the idea of someone having that much control over his heart had always terrified him, but it didn’t. And it didn’t even matter that there was no Q-shaped hole in Sal’s heart either, because Q still got to see him every day, got to see him laugh and smile, and that was okay. That was enough.  

“You’re looking oddly happy, even though you’re dancing with me, buddy,” Sal pointed out.

“Maybe that’s why I’m happy,” Q replied, his realisation making him feel reckless.

Pink tinged Sal’s cheek. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“Like I’d do that.”

Q wasn’t sure exactly who it was that stepped forward, but their chests were suddenly touching. He moved his hand from off Sal’s shoulder and down onto his back, bringing them close enough for Sal’s cheek to occasionally graze his.

An idea popped into Q’s head, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it to see how Sal reacted or because he was an asshole.   
“Out of all the things that we’ve done, this is up there as being the fucking gayest,” Q whispered in Sal’s ear. He felt the other man shudder slightly.

“I don’t exactly see you moving away, bud,” Sal pointed out, his voice strangely hoarse. The sound sent a spark straight to Q’s groin, and he was grateful that he was no longer a teenager, because he would have been in a major situation at that moment if he were.

“I can if you want?” Q wanted to give him an out. There would be no complaining, and they’d never mention it again if Sal didn’t want them to; all he had to was say so.

“No, it’s okay.”

Q’s heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage that he was certain that Sal would be able to feel it too. What did that even mean exactly? His best friend had always been an affectionate guy – he’d practically forced Q into hugs more times that he cared to think about when they were teenagers – but this...this seemed too much even for Sal. Did it mean...could it mean... _no way_. Q was just reading into things too much. As always.

Out of the blue, Sal let go of his hand. Q immediately worried that they’d gone too far, and that Sal was going to walk away, but then Sal wrapped his arm around Q’s back. It brought them even closer together, if that was possible, and left Sal’s cheek permanently nuzzled against his own. For a moment, his arm remained limply by his side, before he decided to take a chance and place it on Sal’s lower back. This wasn’t even a dance anymore, not really; this was an embrace. They were swaying along with the music, but that was it. The other couples near them didn’t matter. For all Q cared, they could be the only two people left on this planet. The world could be crumbling around them, and it wouldn’t matter because all he needed was right there in his arms. But there was one thing that he had to know, even if the answer killed him. He needed to know what this meant to Sal. Was this all just a huge laugh to him, or did it mean the slightest thing to him too?

“What...” was all he managed to say before his throat closed. Just three more words. That’s all he had to say. He could do this. _You can do this, buddy._ He almost wanted to laugh - despite Sal being the issue right now, Q’s internal encouraging voice sounded suspiciously like him.

****_‘Cause all of me loves all of you_  
Love your curves and all your edges  
All your perfect imperfections’ 

_Shut the fuck up, song. You’re not helping_. 

“What...what are we doing?” Q forced out. He felt the barest hint of tears in his eyes. Stupid alcohol making him more emotional.  

“Dancing, of course,” Sal teased.

Q sighed. “I’m being serious here.”

Sal moved backwards and looked Q straight in the eyes. His kaleidoscope eyes were filled with so much fondness that Q thought that he might choke on it. He didn’t want to allow himself to hope, but...

“We’re doing...well, we’re doing whatever you want us to do.”

“But what do _you_ want, Sal?”

Sal snorted out a laugh, and Q felt the breath kiss his cheek. “I think what I want is pretty obvious.” With every word, Sal’s face seemed to redden more and more.

“Maybe I’m fucking blind, but it’s not from where I’m standing.”

The man that he loved closed his eyes, sighed and pressed his cheek against Q’s once more.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Sal murmured. “Or what I see whenever I look at you.”

Q couldn’t speak. His lungs no longer worked, and it was taking all of his energy to not allow the tears that were forcing their way out to fall. All he could manage was to shake his head.

“Okay. Okay.” Sal took a deep breath before exhaling. “You make me wanna be a better person just by looking my way. You take my breath away whenever you smile. When my anxiety threatens to destroy me, your voice slows everything down and allows me to breathe.”

As he spoke, Sal’s hand trailed up his back until he was cupping the back of Q’s neck.

“And what I see...fuck...what I see is a beautiful man who hates himself whenever he looks in a mirror because too many people have led you to believe that you’re not worthy of love. Even though you are worthy, Brian. You really are. And I wanna spend the rest of my life reminding you of that and that you’re loved by me.”

Q wasn’t exactly sure when the first tear fell. All he knew was that once the first one did, it was like the dam had suddenly burst open. These were the words he’d been hoping for Sal to say for what felt like his whole life. He’d imagined him saying it on many occasions when Q was at his lowest, to stop himself from falling completely. But to actually hear it, and it be real and not a figment of his pathetic imagination, was almost impossible to comprehend.

“Oh...oh fuck, shit, Q,” Sal said, cupping Q’s face with both hands and wiping away his tears. “What did I do wrong? I didn’t mean to make you cry. Just forget I said anything, all right? It doesn’t matter.”  
“Y-you said I was worthy of your love,” Q choked out. “I’ve been...I’ve been wanting you to say that for _so long_.”

“Of course you’re worthy,” Sal whispered. “It’s me who should be worried that I’m not worthy of yours, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I am.”

This was his chance to finally show Sal just what he meant to him. He was terrified of what this could do to their friendship, but there was no way that he could stop now. Not when he was this close to finally getting what he’d always wanted.

“Sal, you don’t need to do a goddamn fucking thing.” With that, Q surged forward and finally, _finally_ , kissed Sal with everything that he had. It took less than a second for Sal to respond, wrapping his arms around Q once more as he kissed back. The music had ended minutes ago, but they didn’t need it – all they needed was each other. Sal’s lips felt exactly like he’d fantasised that they would hundreds of times, but this was better than even his wildest imaginations. He nipped and sucked and teased, seemingly knowing everything that Q loved in a kiss on instinct. Q regretted everyday of his life that wasn’t spent kissing this man. Thankfully he could spend the rest of his days making up for it.

When they pulled apart, people began to clap and cheer. Sal immediately blushed, and so Q grabbed his hand to stop him from freaking out at the sudden attention.

“What are you all looking at?” Q complained.

“You guys finally getting your fucking acts together, that’s what!” Joe called out.

“Yeah, it was kinda cute at first, but you’ve dragged it out for years now and it was getting boring,” Murr agreed.

“So we decided to do something about it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sal still in hand, Q headed over to the other two, grateful that the DJ started playing music once more.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sal hissed.

“We knew that there was enough sexual tension between you two to power the whole of Manhattan, so Joe came up with an amazing plan,” Murr explained, grinning.

“All you guys needed was a push, so I slipped the DJ a twenty to get him to change the song as soon as you two assholes started dancin’. Even I’m amazed at my own brilliance – I should be a love guru.”

“And how did you know that we’d dance, huh?” Q asked.

“’Cause I knew that once Sal was on board with my idea of asking you, all he’d need to do is bat his eyes your way and you’d be there,” Joe replied.

“You guys meddled?” Q groaned. “What am I saying, of course you fucking meddled.”

“It was for your own good, buddy,” Murr answered.

“Yeah, I’m surprised your balls didn’t fall off, they’ve been blue for so long,” Joe added.

“I’m not sure if I should be grateful or if I should murder you both,” Sal grumbled.  


“Don’t worry, buddy, they can’t always be at their homes,” Q said, smirking.

“Why? What are you planning?” Murr questioned, narrowing his eyes.

“We’re gonna show you our gratitude by fucking on your beds, of course!”

“Don’t you dare!” Murr squealed.

The other three laughed, although Q noticed that Joe looked a little paler all of a sudden.


	2. Chapter 2

Weddings were always emotional for Sal. He thought it was probably because he was a hopeless romantic, although it didn't help that he tended to wear his heart on his sleeve in everyday life anyway. He contrasted that with his best friend, Q, who was sitting next to him radiating cynicism. Sal supposed he had every right to be cynical after what went down with his ex, and even though it had been a long time, something like that leaves a scar on a guy. He remembered only too well the long nights sitting up with Q, trying again and again to reassure him that he would heal, that it would be okay, that he was wanted and needed by his best friends. To this day, Sal could tell that he didn't believe it much more now than he had then. He felt himself tearing up, as much because of his empathy for the man beside him as for the happy couple, who were almost through with their vows. He looked over at his best friend and studied his expression and posture. Q had a carefully aloof, neutral expression on his face, but his body was slightly tense. Sal could tell he was brooding about something. He wanted to grab his hand, tell him it would be okay, and he wanted to kiss that damn stoicism off his face. Suddenly the congregation cheered, and Q looked over at him. Slightly embarrassed at being caught looking, Sal flashed his biggest smile, and was gratified when Q mirrored it, with a teasing edge.

"Feelin' emotional there, bud?"

Sal laughed, the tears that were threatening gone. "Go fuck yourself."

"Oh, I plan to, later." Q wiggled his eyebrows at Sal, who choked a little, then covered it up quickly by ducking his head and elbowing Q.

"You're a disgusting asshole. C'mon, everyone's leaving."

******

Sal had lost count of how many photographs he had been in by this point. He was used to having his photo taken, as it was a part of his job, but he could never really shake the awkwardness and slight paranoia he felt while posing for photos. He was fairly sure he was good at covering it up, especially when he looked at Q, who tended to look as though he wanted the ground to swallow him up there and then. Joe and Murr, in contrast, were totally in their element here, laughing and joking, completely at ease with themselves. Sal stood next to Q for as many of the photos as possible, feeling Q's discomfort and subtly nudging him every so often to let him know he was there. He wished he could do more, hold his hand or something so that he could get him out of his own fucking head - but he doubted Q would welcome it, especially not here.

Suddenly he felt himself being dragged forward by Joe and Murr, and after a second of confusion he realised what was happening - the bride was about to throw the bouquet, and he had been so busy worrying about Q that he hadn’t heard the announcement.

"Guys, stop - fuck, what're you doin'?" Sal felt flustered and embarrassed.

Joe laughed as he and Murr held onto him, standing in the middle of a group of single women. "You know what this is, buddy! Go get that bouquet! And for God's sake, Sal, ask him to dance later, huh?"

"Shut up, I don't know what you're talking about!" hissed Sal, glancing in Q's direction.

Joe smirked and seemed about to answer, but moved away as the bride turned around and shouted, "Are you all ready?" Sal went to plug his ears with his fingers, as they were instantly assaulted with the screams of ten desperate women. Before he could, though, he saw the bouquet sailing towards him out of nowhere, stretched his hands up instinctively to protect his face... and caught the flowers. He felt his face heat up, his eyes widening in surprise as guests around him cheered, some of the women nearby pouting a little.

"I knew you'd be the next bride, Sally boy!" Joe yelled gleefully, Murr giggling beside him. He made his way through the throng to his friends, blushing fiercely. He tried not to look at Q, but he could feel his gaze on him regardless, which just made him go even redder. It was a mix of embarrassment and an odd feeling of defensiveness from Q's stare that made his reply so irritable.

"Why the fuck would you do that, guys?" He started feeling that familiar knot of anxiety in his stomach, and wanted to run away and hide from everyone.

"Come on, pal, we all know you wanna be a blushin' bride - you've certainly got the blushin' part down." Joe answered, looking smug.

Sal pointed at the bouquet still in his hand, almost dreading the answer. "Who am I supposed to be marrying, exactly?"

"Why, Q of course!" Murr chimed in, looking his usual self-satisfied asshole self. Sal glanced quickly at the other man and noted that he was a little red, and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"So I'm Q's bride, huh?" Sal said thoughtfully. _Wait a fucking minute._ "Why the hell am I the _bride_?"

Murr laughed. "I love that that's what you're offended by."

Sal tried to say something in response, to get _anything_ out in order to counter the implication in Murr's statement, but nothing would come except for unintelligible mumbling. Joe and Murr only laughed harder, and Sal was about to just turn and run, the feelings of anxiety about what Q must be thinking getting worse, when Q himself finally spoke up.

"Sal, buddy, I know I'm a catch and all - but you're gonna need to put out a little more if you want me to marry you," he said, smirk on his lips and gorgeous eyes sparkling. Sal thanked God for Q's great comic timing and, for once, for his ridiculous ability to put on a front. He tried not to think about what Q had actually said, because it would make him blush even worse, and it was a throwaway comment anyway, so why dwell on it?

"Why am I friends with you all again?" Sal tried to sound snippy, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face, "come on, _fiancé,_ let's go get somethin' to drink." He shouldered into Q, and they walked back inside, laughing.

******

The party had hit its full peak, and Sal had danced with pretty much everyone he'd wanted to - including by himself. He loved dancing. The only time he felt truly carefree and confident was when he closed his eyes, gave himself over to the music and forgot all of his anxieties and his problems. Of course, there was one person he hadn't yet danced with - the one guy he couldn't stop thinking about. _Ask him to dance,_ Joe had said earlier, and if Sal could actually get up the balls to ask, that'd be just fucking great, but he knew Q didn't - _wouldn't_ \- dance. He caught Joe's eye across the dance floor, the idiot casting significant glances between Sal and Q. Sal rolled his eyes dramatically, mouthed "fine!" and headed towards where Q was sitting and drinking.

His best friend was looking at him, eyes wide and slightly unfocused, an odd twist to his mouth. He licked his lips, an action that sent a bolt of pleasure straight to Sal's groin. To cover his arousal, he sat down next to Q.

"Hey, you doing okay?" he said, partly out of concern, partly out of a way to start what was likely to be a really awkward conversation.

Q squinted ahead of him, then into his drink, swirling it around as if he was trying to tell the future from the dregs of whiskey in the bottom of the glass. "Yeah, just enjoying my drink."

Sal cast a suspicious glance at Q. He could tell that underneath the calm reply, some odd tension was brewing within his best friend. He could feel a weird electric atmosphere forming, which manifested as a tight ball of anxiety in his gut. Sal cursed his weird fucking head for confusing anticipation and fear. He watched Q for a moment, taking in everything about him - his dark brown eyes that seemed far away from this room, his gorgeous long dark hair, shot through now with silver - which only served to make him even more attractive - and his mouth, set now in a thoughtful pout. Fuck, how long had Sal wanted to kiss that mouth? How many times had he stared at it, wanting desperately to know how those lips felt on his? Would they be soft, or a little rough and chapped? Sal knew that however it felt, it would be perfect because in the end, no matter how much time passed or what happened, it was Q. It would always be Q. _Fuck, okay. Time to do this, Vulcano._ Sal gathered all of his courage.

"Have you drunk enough to consider dancing with me?" he said, trying to sound casual. Q turned his soft warm gaze on him, and smiled.

"Maybe. What would you give me if I agreed to do it?"

Sal was confused for a moment. What the fuck was _that_ supposed to mean? Did he not want to dance? Was he playing _hard to get?_ He forced out a laugh, wincing at how awkward it sounded to his ears, and shrugged a little. "Well, I have five bucks in my pocket if that tempts you at all?"

"Are you implyin' that I'm easily bought?" Q deadpanned. Sal saw through it immediately: he was trying to stall.

"Ten dollars is my final offer, buddy." He met Q's eyes and smiled disarmingly, hoping he wasn't betraying his growing nervousness. Q stared back at him for a moment, his expression unsure and almost a little afraid. It was times like this, where his friend looked insecure and vulnerable and so _young_ , that Sal wanted to wrap his arms around him and protect him from the world. Eventually Q spoke, so quietly that Sal almost didn't hear him:

"Okay."

"Okay?" Sal had been so certain Q was going to say no that he didn't comprehend the answer.

"Okay. I'll do it. I'll dance with you." Q still looked uncertain, twisting his hands together in front of him.

"Really?" Sal wondered if he was dreaming, "you're not fuckin' with me, are you?"

Q's look of uncertainty was replaced by a laugh. "Would I do that to you?"

"Yeah, you would," Sal replied, ignoring Q's look of mock offense, which turned again into a deep, rich laugh that could warm Sal up on the coldest of days. He stood up and offered Sal his hand, and with a quirk of his lips, he spoke.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Vulcano?"

Sal took Q's hand, and replied in his best imitation of a high-pitched 'southern belle' accent, "Why, I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Quinn."

On the dance floor, Q looked like he was about to bolt straight back to his seat and pour himself another drink, so Sal leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Just feel the music. Don’t think, just do.” He thought that was most of Q’s problem, actually. The guy did have rhythm - he’d seen him do pelvic thrusts and gyrations quite a lot in the course of shooting the show, much to Sal’s dick’s untimely delight - so if only he could get out of his own head and stop worrying about what other people thought of him, he could be really good. _And most important,_ Sal thought, _he might actually enjoy himself._

Q still looked uncertain and slightly afraid. “Don’t laugh if I make a total dick of myself.”

Sal laughed in surprise. “I’ve finally got you here - you think I’m gonna do anythin' to make you run away?” The guy could be an idiot sometimes. His expression changed from trepidation to something else - a mixture of confusion and relief, and a weird, slightly intense look in his eyes. Sal wondered for a moment, but then put it down to the fact that his best friend was more than a little buzzed, “Just follow my lead. You’ll be fine, buddy.”

Sal began to dance, a little slower than he would usually so that Q could follow. He found it oddly hot that Q was just standing there watching him dance, and smiled at him, encouraging him to start dancing. He did - and although he was still obviously self conscious, and he looked a little awkward, Sal was so endeared to him that he smiled even harder, which seemed to encourage Q. He loosened up a little and smiled back in that shy way, mouth all crooked on one side, face slightly screwed up, and eyes a little squinty. Sal’s heart fluttered and his stomach hurt. Then the music faded and the DJ, barely intelligible, spoke up.

“Now, here’s one for all the lovers out there,” he announced, with a sappy emphasis on the word _lovers._ John Legend’s All of Me started blaring through the speakers. Sal fucking _loved_ this song.

Q stepped away from Sal, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and Sal frowned at him. “Where do you think you’re goin'? I’ve finally got you here - I don’t give a fuck what song it is. You’re staying.” He considered stamping his foot to emphasise his point, but thought maybe that would be a bit too far.

“I… this song’s for couples.” Q sounded awkward and wrong footed again, and Sal rolled his eyes.

“Very observant of you, Sherlock.” He noted that the couples around them were moving closer, wrapped up in each other. He felt frustrated and a little sad that Q didn’t want to - but maybe it was him. Maybe he was being selfish, expecting Q to do something he was obviously uncomfortable with? He stopped smiling. “Listen, you - you don’t gotta do this, you know? I was kidding, well, sorta. Just… just ignore me, alright? Let’s just sit down.”

**_‘You’ve got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down.’_ **

Sal cursed this damn song out in his head for being so fucking relevant right now. Then just as he was about to turn and go, Q held out his hand, trembling slightly. Sal looked at it. “What are you…?”

“Are we gonna do this or what? The song’ll be over soon.” Q smiled a little as he spoke, and Sal couldn’t help himself. He smiled back, hard.

“Whatever you say, bud. Do you want me to lead?”

“This is the one and only time I’ll let you lead, and it’s only ‘cause I’m too nice.”

Sal laughed, feeling he would allow Q anything as long as he could keep dancing with him. At the same time, he couldn't help wondering what he meant. Did that mean there would be _other_ dances, where the other man would lead? Or was it just a throwaway comment? He didn't care. “Sure.” He slowly, gingerly placed a hand in the middle of Q’s back, savouring the human, almost intimate warmth he was giving off, and his other hand cupped Q’s. After a moment, his best friend put his remaining hand on his shoulder, the familiar weight welcome and relaxing to Sal. He set a slow, swaying rhythm to the music, and Sal focused for a moment on his hand, resting in Q's. There had been plenty of times where they had touched hands, incidentally or on purpose - light touches, touches in passing or while talking, or even hand holding during a challenge. Sal was no stranger to the way Q’s hands felt. But this was different. There was something charged in the way they were touching, a sensation that seemed to speak of something to come. Sal could feel the calluses on Q’s fingers, the valleys and hills and lines of his fingertips and knuckles, palm and wrist that all spoke of a history that Sal felt he was only somewhat privy to. It made him want to explore them, want to study and know and _understand_ the history and story behind every single rough edge, every scar from tiny to large, everything. Sal believed that hands told a story like nothing else could, and Q’s fascinated him most of all.

He abruptly realised that as much closeness there was between them, there was just as much space. He looked at Q to find his friend already looking back at him. They held each other’s gaze in silence for a while, and there was no awkwardness there, just contentment and a kind of comfortable companionship. Sal suddenly perceived that this was how it was always had been, how it was always meant to be - their best friendship just seemed to have morphed into something else, or maybe pared back into something raw, something new, something real. Sal had known for a very long time that he loved Q, but never thought his feelings were reciprocated. Right here, right now, though - he felt a sudden burgeoning of hope, starting as a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach and spreading to his chest, becoming fireworks, fire, out of control. He dared to hope as he had never dared before, that maybe - just maybe - Brian Quinn loved him too. His hope made him bold.

“You’re looking oddly happy even though you’re dancin' with me, buddy.”

Q looked at him, a strange light in his eyes. “Maybe that’s why I’m happy.”

Despite all his hope, his almost-belief, he still couldn’t quite get himself to believe completely. “Don’t bullshit me,” He said, feeling himself blush.

“Like I’d do that.” Q looked completely sincere. The look on his face made Sal feel brave, and he suddenly stepped forward, so that they were almost flush against each other. Q moved his hand down to the small of Sal’s back, his other hand still clasping tight to Sal’s. They were now close enough that their cheeks would occasionally touch with their swaying. They had both shaved for the occasion, and Q’s cheek was soft and smooth, and warm. Sal had to suppress a sudden impulse to turn his head, and kiss and nuzzle it. Suddenly Q whispered in his ear.

“Out of all the things that we’ve done, this is up there as being the fuckin' gayest.” The rumbling tickle of Q’s low murmur in his ear travelled down his spine straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold back a shudder, a slight tremor running through his body. He thought about what Q said, and smirked.

“I don’t exactly see you movin' away, bud.” His voice came out a little more ragged than he’d hoped. He felt Q jerk slightly, and his hopes that both of them might just be on the same page grew into a roaring fire, poised to easily destroy him if given the chance.

“I can if you want?” Q sounded a little breathy.

“No, it’s okay.” Sal had never wanted anything less in his life. If Q stepped away now, he would probably be left utterly broken-hearted. Not to mention _seriously_ fucking sexually frustrated. Not wanting to let him get away, Sal let go of Q’s hand to wrap his arm around his back, and after a moment, Q gently rested his hand in the small of Sal's back. They were as close as you could get now, literally cheek to cheek, and Sal could feel the other man's heart next to his - he wondered vaguely if Q could feel his too, thumping hard against his chest. They swayed in time to the music, silent, and Sal felt weightless and giddy in his bliss. This was all he had ever wanted. He allowed himself to truly believe, for the first time, that Q’s feelings for him were the same as his for Q, and he wanted to cry. Suddenly, Q spoke up, voice cracking a little.

"What…” he started, and then trailed off, his voice noticeably giving out on him. Sal waited him out, knowing that pushing him would only scare him off. After a moment, he began again, sounding wobbly and fucking _terrified_ , “what… what are we doing?”

Sal couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The guy was _slow dancing_ with him and he was asking what this was? His answer was perhaps a little snarkier than it should have been.

“Dancin', of course.”

That earned a sigh from Q. “I’m being serious here.”

Sal took a step back so he could look at Q. He knew that his whole heart was in his eyes, written plainly for his best friend to read. He had never been very good at poker, and he supposed it was too late for that now anyway. What was the point in hiding his emotions any more? Q looked at him, warm brown eyes wide and vulnerable, mouth set as if to receive bad news. Sal screwed up his courage.

“We’re doing… well, we’re doin' whatever you want us to do.” _Way to give a fucking lame answer, Vulcano._

“But what do you want, Sal?” Q looked worried and confused.

 Sal couldn’t help laughing. “I think what I want is pretty obvious.” He felt himself blushing again. _Like, really fucking obvious, Quinn. Seriously._

Q looked a little frustrated. “Maybe I’m fucking blind, but it’s not from where I’m standing.”

Sal was astounded at how oblivious Q actually was. And more than a little saddened, too. Could he really not see how much Sal fucking adored him? Could he not understand that, yes, it was possible that someone could love him? Sal wanted to grab him and shout at him over and over, _you are worth everything to me, I love you so fucking much, can’t you see what an amazing person you are? Can't you see how it breaks my heart that you can't stand yourself?_ He closed his eyes and sighed, tears threatening again, and stepped forward to gently nudge his cheek against Q’s again. _He really doesn’t get it._

He spoke quietly but firmly into Q’s ear. “You really don’t know what you do to me, do you? Or what I see whenever I look at you,” Q just shook his head, “Okay. Okay. You make me wanna be a better person just by looking my way. You take my breath away whenever you smile. When my anxiety threatens to destroy me, your voice slows everything down and allows me to breathe.” Sal’s hand moved up to cup the back of Q’s neck reassuringly. “And what I see… fuck… what I see is a beautiful man who hates himself whenever he looks in a mirror because too many people have led you to believe that you’re not worthy of love. Even though you are worthy, Brian. You really are. And I wanna spend the rest of my life remindin' you of that, and that you’re loved by me.”  
There was a moment of silence between them, and then Sal suddenly became aware that Q was crying. He could hear hitched breath, and a sniffling noise, and he felt alarmed. He started panicking.

“Oh… oh fuck, shit, Q, what did I do wrong?” He tilted Q’s chin up to look at him, cupped his face with both hands and gently wiped his tears away, “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Just forget I said anything, alright? It doesn’t matter.”

**_'How many times do I have to tell you?_ **

**_Even when you’re crying, you’re beautiful too.'_ **

Q gave out a tiny sob, wrenching Sal’s heart. “Y-you said I was worthy of your love. I’ve been… I’ve been wantin' to hear you say that for so long.” Sal felt so regretful. All these years, lost, and he’d never known, never been brave enough to ask before. _What a fucking idiot you are._

“Of course you’re worthy,” Sal could barely get the words out. His throat was tight and his eyes ached, “it’s me who should be worried that I’m not worthy of yours, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I am.” And he would. He would make up for every single year of lost time. He would spend the rest of his life, if that was what it took, to make sure Brian Quinn knew and believed that he was loved and wanted and needed, and worthy of all of those things. He would tell him every single day with a fervency and a passion that matched his belief.

Q was looking at him, eyes wet and wide and still a little uncertain, but there was a happy fierceness in them now that Sal would give everything to be able to see from now until he died. He spoke, voice husky with emotion. “Sal, you don’t need to do a goddamn fuckin' thing.” And taking Sal by surprise, he moved forward swiftly and kissed him hard. Sal recovered quickly and kissed back with just as much ardour, tasting on the other guy’s lips a mixture of whiskey, tears and something that was uniquely _Q._ He had thought about this moment so many times, and it was both similar and dissimilar to how he had imagined it. It felt somehow more _complete_ than how he had imagined it, more complex and arousing and so much more _real._ Q was the best kisser he had ever known, lips moving and sucking at his bottom lip in a way that made Sal think he’d died and gone to fucking heaven. He thanked God that this wasn’t a one off thing, because Sal was fucking _hooked_.

Eventually, they broke apart, and the first thing Sal noticed was that the music had stopped ages ago. The second thing he noticed was that everyone was staring at them. Their audience began to cheer, and Sal started feeling panicky at all the unwarranted attention. He blushed and started fidgeting, looking around for a quick exit, but Q’s hand was suddenly in his, thumb stroking soothing circles on his hand. The anxiety died down a little.

“What are you all lookin' at?” Q said defensively.

Joe suddenly called out from a table right in the middle of the room, where Sal surmised they had the best view, “you guys finally gettin' your fucking acts together, that’s what!”

“Yeah, it was kinda cute at first, but you’ve dragged it out for years now and it was getting boring,” interjected Murr loudly, looking pleased with himself.

“So we decided to do something about it. You’re welcome by the way.”

Sal imagined those assholes sitting at their table, watching him and Q dance, and high-fiving each other. Hand-in-hand, he and Q headed over to them. “What the hell are you talkin' about?” he said, half annoyed, half curious.

Murr immediately got that shit-eating grin on his face that really pissed Sal off. “We knew that there was enough sexual tension between you two to power the whole of Manhattan, so Joe came up with an amazing plan.”

“All you guys needed was a push, so I slipped the DJ a twenty to get him to change the song as soon as you two assholes started dancin’. Even I’m amazed at my own brilliance - I should be a love guru.” Joe’s grin was now starting to look identical to Murr’s.

“And how did you know that we’d dance, huh?” Q pointed out. Sal already knew the answer to this one - he realised that he should have seen this fucking plan coming all along.

“‘Cause I knew that once Sal was on board with my idea of askin' you, all he’d need to do is bat his eyes your way and you’d be there!” Joe answered, as if it was the most obvious and simple thing in the world.

Q groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You guys meddled? What am I saying, of course you fucking meddled.”

Murr laughed, looking totally unrepentant. “It was for your own good, buddy.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised your balls didn’t fall off, they’ve been blue for so long.” Joe made a gross ‘balls’ gesture with both hands.

Sal sighed and wondered why he was surprised. “I’m not sure if I should be grateful, or if I should murder you both.”

Q looked at him and smirked. “Don’t worry buddy, they can’t always be at their homes.”

Murr immediately looked suspicious. “Why, what are you planning?”

“We’re gonna show you our gratitude by fuckin' on your beds, of course!”

Sal blushed again, and tried not to think too hard about him and Q fucking. Here was not a good place or time to get a raging boner.

Murr yelled in disgust. “Don’t you dare!”

Sal laughed, along with Q and Joe, although he wasn’t sure why Joe was laughing - his bed was gonna get fucked in too.


End file.
